Three Old Men
by m.tarnina
Summary: Cherry in bloom. Three old men play halma in the garden. Writing-as-therapy three-way (DW, ATLA and SW) crossover, don't judge. (Featuring the Mystical Tea Dimension of Andrzej Pilipiuk, slightly redecorated for better zen, so perhaps a four-way crossover?) And no, this isn't tea ceremony.
A breeze waved the cherry branches. Among the brown cups on the dark table top it sprinkled cherry petals, white as the pieces remaining on the halma board in the centre.

Around the table three men were sitting on comfortable cushions. There was a copper pot on a small charcoal brazier, carefully watched by the one of the three who was sitting the nearest. He was tall, with a magnificent beard and grey hair, loose on the green tunic that clothed his broad back.

The second man seemed little younger, with a mess of snow-white hair and a short beard, dressed in a cream-coloured tunic with a wide belt. His brown cloak was neatly folded beside him on the grass.

The third, small and dark-haired, smoothly shaven, seemed much younger than his companions. Really he was the eldest of the three, and perhaps, if you looked into his eyes, noticed the shimmering colours of the universe reflected in them, you might see his age. You might not. Easy to underestimate, a short man with an enigmatic smile is, when dressed in a knitted vest this atrocious.

The water sang in the pot. The old man poured it into a teapot with utmost care.

The black-haired guest sighed contentedly.

"Delicious." He said, putting his cup delicately on the table.

"Isn't it? Even here a better blend is difficult to find."

The man in a cream-coloured tunic was staring silently at his cup. He flinched, shook and put the cup alongside the halma board.

"Very pleasing tea." He said, looking away.

"You haven't even tried it."

"Thinking of your pupil." The black-haired guest muttered. "You still feel responsible."

"I do."

After a moment of silence, he added "How could I deny it? I am responsible."

The others shared a glance.

"You're not the only sentient being in the whole multiverse, you know?" The black-haired man smiled a little, but he shook his white head.

"I suspected they were more than fond of each other, he and... Had I talked to him..."

"About what?"

"Excuse me?"

"What would you have talked to him about?" The tea maker repeated. Another handful of cherry petals arrived on the wind. He took one off his shoulder, looked at it and let it fly away.

"Responsibility." The man in cream-coloured tunic cracked a bitter smile, and the tea maker nodded.

"You are serious like a child."

"Is being serious a wrong thing?" He answered in such a contrary tone that the other raised his hand defensively.

"Of course, this is the way of your order."

The third man hid a smile behind his cup. He, himself, would never join any order that would take him as a member.

"Not long ago" he began "Ace and I were organising a firework display. She was beside herself! Spend a couple of days drafting plans, and after we've finished setting it all up, she gave the entire installation several very thorough checks."

"What are you trying to say?"

"Patience. She left no stone unturned, but when she pushed the button, nothing happened. We've faced Daleks and Cybermen, and yet I've never seen her so pale before."

He chuckled.

"Of course, she yelled at me, then ran to check everything over again. And what did she find?"

He paused dramatically for a moment.

"The detonator was faulty."

The other man stared at him, frowning.

"Do you mean that my student was bad from the beginning?"

"No. Do you?"

"Very funny."

The third of the men chuckled, as well. "That's the point. You're repeating your student's mistakes, son."

The man in the cream-coloured tunic winced. "Am I?"

"Every student's since the beginning of time" the black-haired one added. "And believe me, I know time."

He wasn't at all discouraged by a high-brow, piercing look.

"Why did Ace yell at me?"

The man in the cream-coloured tunic shrugged, turning his eyes to the halma board.

"She blamed you for the failure."

"No, friend. She's an honest girl. She's checked all the circuits I've soldered."

"She was frustrated." He sighed. "Irritated."

"So she was. You're getting close. Why did she feel like this?"

"She'd done a lot of work, put an effort into it, and was disappointed. Not the best of analogies."

"No?" The man in green lifted an eyebrow. "She didn't get what she's been expecting."

"What she had a right to expect." The other muttered, his fingers clutching the cup.

"She had." The black-haired one nodded. "But circumstances beyond her control upset her plans, even though she's done everything she could."

"When you are young" the green-clad man said philosophically, "every task seems profound."

"Mine was profound!"

"It was. But its success did not depend on you only."

The white-haired man hung his head. "Stop finding excuses for me."

"I'm not. I'm giving you a warning, that's all. Your student wanted everything under his control, as well.

"Responsibility-"

"Is not only yours." The green-clad old man repeated.

"Beware unnecessary pride." The black-haired one quoted airily. "I think this was your order's downfall, the pride. You were convinced the universe would fall into chaos if that wasn't for your babysitting."

"Look who's talking." The other snorted.

"But the universe took you down a peg" the black-haired one continued, blithe, "and you still can't get over it."

"Would would you have done, I wonder."

"Pride is like fire" the green-clad old man said. "A small flame may warm you, but when it gets out of hand, sooner or later it'll burn everything you held dear."

The cherry branches trembled in the wind, shedding white petals. After a moment's silence the old man asked "How is your new ward growing up?"

"Fine. More like his mother in personality..."

"Nothing in the multiverse repeats." The black-haired man nodded. "Treat me to another game of halma?"

"So you can find a new way of winning." He chuckled. "Why not."

The halma pieces rattled, swept off the board.


End file.
